


That One Sentinel/Guide Vigilante AU No-one Asked For

by graceling_in_a_suit



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (so much crack), AU, Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Crack, Drabble, M/M, guide!Harry, have fun kids, heroic defenders of the night, if that's not a thing it should be, sentinel!Louis, superhero au, superhero sentinel/guide AU, to be specific
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:29:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3280184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceling_in_a_suit/pseuds/graceling_in_a_suit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis are a bonded pair who happen to attempt to defend the innocent people of London as masked vigilantes Maladroit and Quandary (with limited success).</p>
            </blockquote>





	That One Sentinel/Guide Vigilante AU No-one Asked For

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just a baby fic author, hatched into this world- so, be gentle! Comments are love! <3  
> (this fic is dedicated to my sister because it was her birthday present and now I'm sharing it with the internet. You know, for posterity. Think of the future generations.)

The grimy streets of London, filled to the overworked brim with traffic, fog, and unfortunate murder rates are where our scene is set. The police force consists of those who don't care enough to take tip offs (because they would never lift a finger against crime in the first place) and those who also don't lift a finger against crime, but pretend they would so that they can claim extra in their christmas finds, brought to them by proud supporters in London's crime-filled underbelly.  
Luckily (or, unluckily, depending on your specific viewpoint), this city also comes with a grossly unqualified pair of bonded vigilantes, an incompetent Sentinel and his slightly less incompetent Guide. These 'lads' (when in Rome) scour the city and keep watch, prepared to beat shifty looking people in hoodies up if an innocent looking pedestrian screamed and pointed theatrically enough to catch either's attention.  
The first of our heroes; Quandary, the ferocious street-fighter armed with skin tight Lycra, a notable absence of effective weapons, killer hair that tends to be it's own distraction in a fight and a sarcastic and sassy sense of humour that borders on mean. He has been known to viscously hurt the feelings of any and all thugs, especially those who he deems aren't wearing enough sequins. As his Guide will often be caught muttering and shaking his head, there are never enough sequins on anyone else but Louis Tomlins- Oh shit, I mean, this completely faceless heroic defender of the.. night... ahem  
The second of our heroes (and at this point I would like to pause the melodramatic voiceover and translate to the readers that they should currently be imagining two men standing on a roof, one taller and with longer and slightly more hair -in which 'slightly' is used sarcastically- standing in classic super-heroic poses, all macho posturing and broody glances, one with his fists on his waist and... hip jutted out slightly? (“Louis, stop that, you're not supposed to be camp whilst being a superhero!”  
“...Sorry, Harry.”)  
Staring off into the middle distance and correcting his stance, his beautiful face is in profile. He is adorned with a dark blue, skin tight shirt, leggings and a truly theatrical amount of sequins, as well as surprisingly sensible shoes and a domino mask to match his- let's face it- fabulous outfit.  
The other, you know, the coltish one with ridiculous hair, is also staring off into the middle distance. He has one knee on the raised edge of the roof, a purposefully lacklustre forearm thrown over his thigh, as he ponders the civilians on the ground who are unaware of the force that protects them from danger night after night. This, the second of our heroes, is the mysterious Maladroit. His trademark is spectacular acrobatics, performed with a success rate of 38%. He is the designated terrible pun maker of the pair, and is ofter found perching on fire escapes and nearby real estate roofings, with his signature weapon pointed towards whichever foul villain his beloved was currently fighting, ready to defend his Sentinel and come swooping in on whomever deigns harm him if need be. Maladroit (who takes infinite pleasure on the confusion his enemies take from his obscure and hardly boastful name)'s weapon of choice: this totally ace crossbow he bought off eBay.   
Together, the pair roam the dank and poverty-stricken areas of London, defending the innocent and preventing hideous crime with the swift leotards of justice.  
It's all very machiavellian.  
On this particular fateful evening, the heroes are stalking a man whom they believe to be dealing to children, supplying the local high school. With drugs. Currently, the handsome pair cross a web of rooftops and swing from building to building, adrenaline pumping in their pursuit of this crook-  
“Harry?” whispers Quandary, jarring Maladroit out of his eloquent narration.  
Maladroit turn his head to his Sentinel as quietly as possible, aware that undue shuffling could alert their suspect, who is currently purchasing an unhealthy amount of vodka from a liquor store across the road from the perch Harry and Louis hide on, crammed into a rickety fire escape, about half way up a run-down 10 story apartment block.   
“What?” Maladroit whispers back, sending affection through their bond to negate his annoyed tone.  
“Were you just narrating our exploits in you head again? Don't give me that face, I know you do it- this is serious business, love, we need to keep our eye on this guy. Two kids have OD'd, and God knows the police are doing fuck all.” Quandary eyes Maladroit with quiet disapproval through his domino mask, as well as with equally quiet amusement at his Guide's endearing habit of film-noir type melodrama when it came to their -more PG?- nightly exploits. Also, hilariously, their x-rated ones on occasion (*cough* request *cough*).  
“I know, Lou, but you can't deny how magical a movie with dramatic voiceover about us wold be.” Maladroit intones, whisper lost in his excitement, but the low pitch of his voice is sure not to draw too much attention even without it. “Besides,” he continued before his Sentinel could respond, “it's not me that needs to focus. Aren't you supposed to be sending out your senses? What's our guy up to, hmm?”  
Quandary concedes his rather valid point and relaxes into his Guide's side, using the calming anchor of his physical presence to centre himself as he sends out his senses, scouting and sorting through the several people milling between him and his target, tuning everything else out once he finds him.  
His Guide watches with his usual level of quiet concern as Quandary stills and goes glassy eyed. He waits, trusting his Sentinel's senses as well as the strength of their bond to draw Louis back if need be.

 

“I still can't believe we sat on a damp fire escape for- what, four hours? Four hours of stalking a guy whose worst crime was 'looking shifty' and purchasing enough alcohol to need a liver transplant. What made you think he was our dealer, anyway?” Harry questions, frustration-amusement-cheekiness translating to Louis through their bond as the pair crawled into their apartment.  
“I don't know, love, maybe it was all the hanging around on the pavement in front of the high school, palming off mysterious paper bags to students who approached him. If that doesn't scream drug pusher to you, what does?” Replies the Sentinel snappily. He really should have focused in with his sense of smell to accurately determine the actual contents of the paper bags, but a shifty looking middle aged guy hanging around school kids doesn't tend to generally leave a huge margin of error on such assumptions as the one he made.  
He feels the comforting arms of his Guide wrap around his waist as he removes his domino mask and splashes his face with water. Their boxy, occasionally cockroach infested kitchen was barely big enough for the two of them to cook anything together without arguing or inhabiting the same space, the latter of which always proving to be wholly incompatible with food preparation, but at the moment it feels comforting and homely after hours of pointless and humiliating investigation.  
“Stop worrying so much, Lou, I'm sure that the possibility of the suspicious man outside the high school was selling off his recently dead wife's huge collection of baseball cards would not have crossed any sane person's minds,” drawls Harry into the back of Louis' neck.  
Louis melted into Harry's warm embrace and wordlessly accepted the calming presence of his Guide, as well as the soothing mental caresses he was receiving which left the decidedly odd feel of being internally petted. Louis would have relayed this rather hilariously sexual metaphor to the taller man, but he was still determined to make one last feeble protest.  
“Stop worrying about it? Harry, we broke into the man's apartment!” Louis attempts to sound outraged at the violation to the privacy of a grieving, alcoholic-yet-innocent man, but he fails rather spectacularly on account of his Guide humming dutifully at his concerns as if he was paying the slightest bit of attention whilst burying his face in his Sentinel's hair and pushing his palms upwards and underneath Louis' shirt. (This, in itself, was a slightly uncomfortable experience due to the fact that the term 'skin tight' was not used lightly in relation to his chosen vigilante uniform)  
“Alright, you twat, get off me. It's 2 AM and we may not have actual work tomorrow, but we do have to find new leads on the high school supplier now poor bloody Barry Fisher has been crossed off as prime suspect. Come on, love, let's go to bed.”  
Harry compliantly disentangles himself from his Sentinel and shuffles as gracefully as his chosen vigilante name suggests towards their shared bedroom. Louis follows his, turning off all the lights as he goes and mournfully reflecting on how truly, pitifully empty his life had been before the spectacular entrance of one Harry Styles, fresh faced and getting himself beaten up every fortnight by stepping into fights he had no right meddling in, lead only by the stubbornness of his conscience.  
Theirs had been a fledgling romance of awkward affection in the daytime and intense devotion during the night. For the first few months, Louis would never even concede to think about willingly allowing his Guide to accompany his nighttime patrols and thus put him in danger, a subject of much contention between the two. Eventually, Harry had found that ridiculous crossbow on eBay and dubbed himself with an appropriate, if not at all threatening, vigilante name. From then on there was simply no stopping him.  
As the pair tuck themselves around each other in their mostly uncomfortable bed after having removed their uniforms and proverbially hung up their capes for the night, Louis admits to his Guide that he's glad they can help people together. Even if most of the time they just rescue cats from trees and narrowly avoid getting stabbed when attempting to retrieve stolen bags from muggers, he always feels like he could take down the entire London network of criminals with Harry by his side.

~And so, the intrepid heroes take their much needed rest and prepare for another day of blundering around completely out of their depth in a job that they aren't even getting paid for- well, except for that one overly friendly elderly woman, who seemed to be confused at the proper etiquette of thanking Lycra clad young men when they return your purse to you.

The End

P.s. Harry used to be a baker.


End file.
